Laochanan
by San Antonio Rose
Summary: Sometimes even the best-laid plans of demons and angels gang agley. Sometimes a day is longer than it seems. Sometimes getting home is only half the battle. (AU, pre-series)
1. Chapter 1

Laochanan  
>By San Antonio Rose<p>

Chapter 1

_November 2, 1983_

Dean tried to go to sleep. He really did. He was tired, and he knew he wasn't supposed to get up once Mommy and Daddy had put him to bed. But he couldn't shake the sense that something was Wrong, that Sammy needed him.

So carefully, quietly, he slipped out of bed and walked down the hall to Sammy's room. And when he got there, he found the window open and two little men, not much taller than he was, letting down the side of Sammy's crib.

"Hey!" said Dean. "Who are you?"

"Shh-hh-hh!" said one of the little men, flapping his hand at Dean while the other little man gently pulled Sammy out of the crib. "Off to bed with ye now, lad, and forget you saw us."

"What are you doing with my brother?"

"We're keeping him safe, that's what," said the one who was holding Sammy. "There's demons coming for this one, and none of us want that, do we?"

Dean frowned. "No, but that doesn't mean you get to steal him."

"Oh, _do_ go back to bed, lad," said the first little man, climbing into the crib. "That demon'll be along any minute, and you don't want to be here when he comes."

Dean stomped his foot. "_No_. Put Sammy back!"

The little men looked like they were about to argue with him some more, but then they both froze and looked at the window. "He's coming," whispered the one who'd crawled into the crib.

"Nothing for it, then," said the other and tossed one of Sammy's wooden toys to the first.

The little man in the crib said something that wasn't in English, and the toy suddenly looked exactly like a sleeping Sammy. Then he said something else, and all of a sudden _he_ looked exactly like _Dean_.

"Ye know what to do?" asked the one who was holding Sammy, shifting him so one hand was free.

"Aye, Da," nodded not-Dean. "Go on, go on!"

And then the little man grabbed Dean by the wrist, said something Dean didn't understand, and pulled him out the window!

Dean screamed and fought, but he couldn't get away from the little man. And it might have been just as well, because they were flying, sort of. Dean couldn't tell where they were or where they were going, but he didn't really care. He wanted to get away from the little man and take Sammy home, where they belonged!

Finally they came to a stop in a cave that was furnished like a house, and the little man took the boys over to a bed at the back of the cave and made Dean sit down on it. Then he laid Sammy down next to Dean and told them both not to move. Dean pulled Sammy into his arms, but there wasn't really a good way to escape that he could see, so he just scooted back against the wall as far as he could go.

"That's right," said the little man with a smile that seemed kind. "You just sit tight there, lads, and I'll get ye some warm milk." Then he went over to a cabinet and pulled out a mug for Dean and a bottle for Sammy, which he set on the table before reaching into a hole in the wall next to the fireplace and pulling out one of those old-fashioned milk cans like Dean had seen on _Little House on the Prairie_.

Just then the other little man, the one who'd pretended to be Dean, appeared with a pop. His face was dirty, and his clothes were burned.

The first little man said a bad word. "What happened, son?"

"Azazel happened, that's what," said the burned one. "I sat up soon as he came in and tried to scream, but afore I knew it, I was on the ceiling and there's Azazel drippin' his own blood in the changeling's mouth! Well, thinks I, best let him finish and find the cheat for himself, only he didn't find it 'cause the changeling looked away and started to fuss, so whatever sign he was lookin' for wouldn't ha' shown. So I adds my screams to the changeling's, and Azazel, he gets mad and tries to burn me to death!"

"And the parents?"

"Oh, they're right as rain, last I saw—bit hurt by the smoke, maybe, but they'll live. The changeling's burnt, though, and it was quite the job I had to get out. Still, they should think the boys are dead now."

Dean willed himself not to cry, but it was hard. He didn't want Mommy and Daddy to think they were dead!

"I'd not be too certain o' that," said the first little man, pouring milk into the bottle. "'Tis a shrewd one she is, that Mary Campbell, and a hunter at that. 'Tis not she who'll be easy to fool if she goes looking for answers about Azazel."

"Ah, well, no matter," replied the burnt one. "She'll not find it so easy to get them back, once we've brought them to the king."

The first one laughed and poured milk into the mug. Sammy woke up then and started fussing like he was hungry, and the first little man brought over the mug and the bottle and tried to feed Sammy. But Dean pulled his knees up and pulled Sammy tighter against his chest until Sammy squeaked a little to tell him to stop.

"'Tis only milk, lad," said the little man, "and from a mortal farm at that. You've naught to fear from it. Here, taste it yourself." And he held out the mug.

Sammy really did sound hungry, so Dean swallowed hard and took the mug. The milk smelled okay when he sniffed it, and it tasted okay when he took a sip. So he set the mug down and held out his hand for the bottle, which the little man gave to him. Dean hadn't tried to feed Sammy all by himself very many times, but he did know what to do, and Sammy drank the whole bottle and burped real big as soon as Dean started patting his back. Then Dean drained his mug quickly and gave the mug and the bottle back to the little man, and he wrapped his arms around Sammy again and clutched the back of his sleeper with both hands. Sammy was already falling asleep, but he got the idea and grabbed a fistful of Dean's pajama shirt and held on tight.

The little men went off to another part of the cave and talked quietly in their own language. Dean tried to stay awake and keep watch, and he did stay awake for what seemed like hours, but he just couldn't keep his eyes open for the whole night.

When he woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon and eggs, his hands were still holding tight to Sammy's sleeper; in fact, they were sore from being in fists for so long. But the hand that was holding onto Dean's shirt felt bigger, and so did the body that was resting in his arms. Dean opened his eyes and looked down... and he frowned when he saw that he was holding a bigger boy, one who looked more like he was six years old. But there was that mole next to his nose, and another at the corner of his mouth, and two more on his chin, and he was still smaller than Dean—

Dean gasped.

The boy in his arms opened familiar hazel eyes and whispered, "Dean?"

"Sammy?"

The boy—Sammy—nodded. "'M scared, Dean."

"What... I mean... you were a _baby_."

"I know." Sammy sniffled. "I... w-w-woke up like this, a little bit ago, and it felt like... like you were getting bigger, too. 'N the man from last night, he said there's breakfast on the table, 'n he 'n his son were gonna go to work but they'd be back later and they're gonna take us to the king tonight."

Dean bit his lip and looked around the cave. Sure enough, there was food on the table, and the two little men were nowhere to be seen. And Dean's stomach growled at the same time Sammy's did.

"Okay," Dean said. "We gotta go home, but we gotta eat first. And while we're eating, we can figure out what we're gonna do."

"You think it's safe to eat their food?"

"I don't think we've got a choice. Something magic is going on, but we can't run very far if we don't eat. And we'll get sick."

Sammy sniffled again. "'Kay."

Dean helped Sammy sit up, and together they went to the table and found two plates full of bacon, eggs, sausages, beans, tomatoes, and some little black and white things that didn't look familiar, along with two mugs full of milk. They were both so hungry that they ate every bite without talking, though Dean had to show Sammy how to use his silverware. Then they explored the cave and found some daytime clothes that would fit okay, plus a satchel and some food that would be okay to take without ice—bread and cheese and crackers and a few other foods like that. So they changed clothes and packed up the satchel, putting their pajamas at the very bottom. They didn't find any shoes, though, or any gold, which kind of surprised Dean. He'd been thinking the little men might be leprechauns. He didn't know why they would _need_ gold, though, and he figured they ought to be okay without shoes if they were in Fairyland, so that was okay.

That left the problem of Sammy's diaper. There wasn't a trashcan or a place to dig a hole and bury it, and Dean really didn't want to take it with them.

"I think we should burn it," said Sammy.

Dean shrugged and threw the diaper on the fire. It smelled awful, but it did start burning. So Dean nodded and put the satchel over his shoulder. "Okay, Sammy. Let's go."

Sammy closed the drawer he'd been rummaging through and walked over to Dean, his hands full of knives like Daddy's, the kind that had covers on them. "Here," he said, handing one handful to Dean.

Dean frowned. "Why'd you take these?"

"I dunno. We might need to cut something, maybe, or defend ourselves."

Dean thought about it for a moment, then nodded and took the knives Sammy handed to him. One he stuck in his waistband, one in his pocket, and one he put in the satchel. Sammy did the same. Then he took Dean's hand, and together they walked to the opening of the cave and looked around. There was nobody outside, and although they could hear hammering, it sounded a long way off. There was also a little path that ran down to what looked like a road.

"Which way do we go, Dean?" Sammy whispered.

Dean listened for a moment. "The hammering comes from over there," he finally whispered back, pointing off to the left. "So we'd better go the other way."

Sammy held his hand tighter. "Okay."

Dean had a brief moment of panic as he looked down at his little brother. Yesterday they'd both been really little—Dean was four and Sammy had only had a _half_ birthday. Now they were big... well, big_ger_, but it wasn't like they'd done Boy Scouts or anything like the bigger boys in their neighborhood. Dean wasn't at all sure he knew how to live in a forest for even a day. But they couldn't stay here. Mommy and Daddy might think they were dead, and if the little men took them to the king, they might _never_ get to go home.

So Dean took a deep breath and let it out again, and then he led Sammy down the path as quietly as he could until they got to the road. They walked down the road as quietly as they could until they couldn't hear the hammering anymore... and then they ran. And just about the time Sammy started holding his side, there was a yell behind them, and they ran faster until they just couldn't run anymore. Dean had just enough strength left to pull Sammy with him behind some bushes, and they lay there and tried not to pant too loud until the little men, who _had_ been chasing them after all, ran past.

Dean sat up then and noticed that the bushes they were hiding behind had blackberries on them. He picked one and tasted it, and it was juicy and sweet. "You hungry, Sammy?" he asked quietly.

Sammy nodded, so Dean picked a few berries and handed them to him. Then he picked some more for himself, and Sammy started picking his own after eating the ones Dean had given him. They ate and ate, stopping only when it sounded like the little men were coming back. But the little men were yelling at each other in their own language, so even though they might have seen the boys if they'd looked, they walked past without finding them.

"Should we pick some more to take with us?" Sammy asked when it was safe.

"Maybe," Dean replied and started to look in his pockets for a handkerchief.

But suddenly a growly voice said, "Here! Who's been eating my blackberries?"

The boys gasped and looked up to see a big black bear frowning down at them from the other side of the bushes!

"We're sorry," said Sammy, scooting closer to Dean. "They were right here by the road, and there wasn't a fence. We didn't know they belonged to anybody."

"Didn't know?" the bear repeated. "Why, everyone knows this part of the forest is mine."

"_We_ didn't, Mr. Bear," Dean replied. "We're not from here."

"Not from here? Runaways, are you?"

"No, sir, not... not really. Two little men who live up the road stole us last night, and we're trying to go home."

The bear looked hard at the boys then, and suddenly his eyes went wide. "Upon my word, it's the Winchesters! Oh, boys, you'd be safer staying in this country; the whole forest knows that very bad creatures are looking for you there."

"But we _gotta_ go home!" cried Dean. "Our mom and dad are worried about us!"

The bear sighed and nodded. "All right, then. You're already going the right way. Stay on this road, the way you were going, and follow it until you get to the rope bridge. Then cross the bridge and go down around the hill to Grandmother's house. She'll be able to tell you how to get home from there. But whatever you do, do not lose sight of the road. The plants that grow beside it are fit for mortal food, and the streams that run near it are safe for drinking; but if you stray too far, you may fall into enchantments—or worse."

The boys nodded and thanked the bear, who gave them permission to pick a few more berries to eat along the way. And then they were off again, sometimes walking quickly, sometimes running.

The second time they stopped to rest, this time beside a stream, Dean started to say something, but his voice squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again—but his voice came out _low_, almost like Daddy's!

"Dean?" Sammy asked, frowning. "Are you okay?"

"I—" Dean's reply was cut off by a cry of pain as he suddenly felt himself grow _fast_. His arms, his legs, his back and chest, everything shifted and got bigger, and when it was over, Dean fell to his knees, panting hard and sweating.

Sammy ran up to him and put a hand on Dean's shoulder, but he gasped when Dean looked up at him. "Dean, you've got _hair_ on your face!"

Startled, Dean staggered to his feet and went over to the stream to wash the sweat off his face. And when he saw his reflection, sure enough, some of the hairs on his upper lip and along his jaw were turning dark, just like Daddy's beard. Sammy'd never seen Daddy with a beard.

"I'm a teenager," he breathed in that new low voice, and it felt like there were rocks in his tummy. A tear rolled down his cheek and fell into the stream, but his reflection didn't change. It wasn't a trick.

"Dean?" Sammy asked again, coming up beside him and putting a hand on his back. "Are you okay?"

"No," Dean replied, hating the fact that he sounded like he was crying (which he was). "I wanna go home, Sammy. Yesterday I was _four!_ Mama's not gonna recognize us like this!"

"Sure she will," Sammy said quietly. "She's our mom."

Dean turned to look at his little brother, who wasn't as little as he had been even when they'd left the cave that morning, and smiled a little. "You're pretty smart for a little kid."

Sammy huffed. "_Dean_."

Dean smiled bigger and hugged him. "Thanks."

Sammy hugged him back. "Love you."

"Love you, too. And I mean it. You're smart."

Dean could feel Sammy blush against his shoulder. "I just know stuff. I don't know how. I don't think I'm as smart as you, though."

This time it was Dean's turn to blush. People told him he was smart, but he didn't know if they'd still say that when he got home and was all grown up but hadn't ever been to school. But he didn't say that to Sammy. Instead, he let Sammy go and went back to where he'd dropped the satchel and got out some bread and cheese for making sandwiches. They ate and drank their fill from the stream, rested a few minutes more, and then kept going.

The third time they stopped, both brothers needed to use the bathroom, so they each went a little way off the road—being careful not to go too far, but also being careful to give each other some privacy—and did their business. Dean had just buttoned his pants again when he heard a woman say, "Well, well, what have we here?"

He turned and saw a pretty lady with long, curly dark hair and a shiny green dress coming out from behind a tree. And he got a funny, fluttery feeling in his stomach. "'Scuse me, ma'am," he said, backing away a little, toward the road. "We'll be leaving in just a moment."

"Oh, do stay!" she replied, walking toward him. "I've been so lonely, and I would very much like someone to talk to for just a little while. And you are so polite and so very handsome... won't you come to my house and play with me?"

She had been getting closer even though Dean had been backing away from her, and now he backed into a tree, which made the satchel fall off his shoulder. He looked around wildly for some escape, and when he looked back, she was close enough to touch and getting closer.

"Play?" he squeaked.

"Mm-hm," she said with a smile that was both really scary and really inviting. "I know a wonderful game we could play, my darling, just the two of us."

And then she kissed him on the mouth.

Now, there were girls at home who'd tried to kiss Dean on the lips before when they were playing house. But they were stupid little girls, and even when they'd succeeded, Dean hadn't liked it much. Girls were gross. This time, though, even though he was scared and didn't really want to be kissed, the way the lady kissed him made him feel funny... confused and foggy and kind of good. All of a sudden he could understand why Mommy and Daddy liked to kiss. So he didn't resist when she kissed him again, and then he kissed her back. And when she stepped back and offered him her hand, he took it and started to follow her.

He really, really wanted to go play with her if her game was this kind of fun.

"DEAN!" Sammy yelled, running toward them. "Hey, you, leave my brother alone!"

Sammy's voice reminded Dean that they needed to go somewhere, that they weren't supposed to leave the road, but he couldn't make himself care. He wanted to go play. But then Sammy threw a rock at the lady, making her let go of Dean... and when she snarled at Sammy, suddenly she didn't look so pretty anymore. She chanted something in another language, and a ball of light formed between her hands. And Dean gasped as he realized that Sammy was really in danger.

He jumped in front of Sammy just in time to catch the ball of light right in the middle of his chest. It burned and hurt his eyes, and he screamed and fell to his knees... and when the pain stopped, he opened his eyes and everything was dark.

This time he couldn't help it. He started to cry for real.

"Dean!" cried Sammy, dropping down in front of Dean and grabbing his shoulders. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"I... I c-c-can't see!" Dean sobbed, grabbing Sammy's arms in return. "How'm I supposed to take care of you if I can't _see?_"

"You don't ha—_ahhhhh!_" Sammy broke off in a scream, and Dean almost stopped breathing as he felt the change hit Sammy. Muscles rippled and bones lengthened, and the hands on Dean's shoulders grew and grew until they felt almost as big as Daddy's hands. And his voice changed, too. When he finally stopped screaming and started panting, he didn't sound like a boy anymore. He sounded like a man.

"Sammy?"

"I... I'm as big as you are now, Dean," Sammy replied, _definitely_ sounding like a man. "So maybe... maybe it's _my_ turn to look after _you_."

Dean pulled Sammy closer and started crying again. "It's not fair," he kept sobbing. "It's not. None of it. We didn't ask for this. We're _kids_. It's not fair."

"I know, Dean," Sammy whispered, hugging him with grown-up arms and running grown-up hands over his back just like Mom would. "I know. But it's the way it is. You gotta trust me."

Finally Dean hiccupped a little and nodded. "Okay, Sam. I... I trust you."

"Okay. Let's go, then."

Sammy helped Dean stand up and left him long enough to pick up the satchel, then came back and guided Dean's hand up to rest on his shoulder. He hadn't been kidding; he really was as tall as Dean. Then he put an arm around Dean's waist and started leading him back to the road. They stumbled a little as they got used to walking like this, but by the time they got to the road, they'd matched their strides and were able to pick up the pace again. And this time they kept going for a longer time, Sam picking fruit for both of them to eat as they walked from trees that were hanging over the road. Some of them were fruits Dean knew, but even the ones that didn't sound familiar when Sam described them tasted good.

It was a pain not being able to see, though. And his face itched from the beard he was growing, and his hair was getting uncomfortably long.

They had just agreed to stop for more sandwiches when they heard voices away off in the forest, men laughing and talking. Sam couldn't see anyone, though, so they sat very still on the side of the road, reasoning that nobody would recognize them as the boys who'd run away that morning.

"A stray mortal, she said?" they finally heard one of the men say.

"Aye, a fine-looking youth," said another, "dark blond hair and green eyes and the first flush of a beard. Almost had him, too, save his little brother came along and near broke her wrist with a stone."

"Ah," said the first voice, "that'll be the Winchesters, then. Not so simple, they, only innocent, and more fool she for trying to catch one."

"Said she cast a spell of blindness at the little one, but the older one stepped in its way."

"He would, too."

"She was so mad that he loved his brother better than her that she left him thus."

"Again, more fool she for thinking he understood aught of her desire. But if anyone can find the cure, sure and it's the Winchesters."

"Oh, aye," said the second voice in the tone Mom called sarcastic when Dad used it. "An apple of gold from a tree of silver. Why, do you know how long it's been since _anyone_ has laid eyes on that tree?"

"Hush!" said a third voice sternly. "Don't speak so, young one. _You_ may not think the tree exists, but those as needs it always finds it."

"'Tis a rare breed those boys are," added the first voice, and it sounded like the men were moving away again. "If anyone can find it, they will."

The brothers stayed quite still until the voices had gone far enough away that they couldn't hear words anymore. Then Dean sighed and said, "Sam."

"What?" Sam replied.

"Don't."

"Dean..."

"We need to go to Grandmother's house," Dean insisted. "We can ask her where the tree is. But we're _not_ leaving the road again, you hear me?"

"Dean."

"_No_, Sam. If we find it, we find it. If we don't... it's my own fault that I'm blind. I should have known better than to even think about going with that lady. I deserve to be the one she hurt. You've already saved me from whatever she was gonna do to me; don't do something that could make things worse."

Sam sighed. "Okay. We'll stay on the road. I promise."

Dean squeezed his arm. "Thanks."

They ate their sandwiches in a hurry and went on again, jogging most of the way because Sam said it seemed to be getting late in the afternoon. They didn't talk about much of anything now, so focused were they on getting to Grandmother's house, not even really noting when they each shot up a few more inches and Dean finally stopped growing. But after what seemed like a couple of hours, they came down a hill and around a bend, and Sam gasped and stopped short.

"What?" Dean asked, feeling some powerful kind of magic nearby. "What is it?"

"It's the tree," Sam replied. "_The_ tree—a silver tree with apples of gold. It's right here."

"Sam..."

"Dean, I swear, it's _right here_, like, ten steps off the road. We're in a big clearing; there's no place for anything to hide. And there's a fountain here, too; can you hear it?"

Dean could hear the fountain, and he could feel the dirt of the road under his feet. He could only assume Sam was telling the truth about where the tree was. "Is there a fence?"

"No. No signs, either. It's just... here."

Dean bit his lip. "Okay. Take me to it."

Sam guided him carefully along the road until they were apparently even with the tree, then turned him and led him exactly ten steps over cool, springy grass and stopped. Then he took Dean's hand and put it on the trunk of a tree that was right in front of him.

It did feel kind of like metal, even though it was rough like tree bark. And it felt warm and _alive_, almost like it was singing under Dean's hand.

Dean swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "Okay, look... whoever's listening... I'm told I need an apple from this tree to be able to see again. My brother swears there's not a sign or anything that says I shouldn't eat it, and I don't have a feeling like this might be bad, like I kind of did with the bad lady a while back. So... I guess what I'm saying is, I'm gonna eat this in good faith, so please don't do anything to me or my brother." That said, he took his hand away from the trunk and reached up to start looking for a branch.

And an apple fell into his hand.

Both brothers gasped, and Dean turned the apple around in his hand for a moment. "Th-thank you," he finally stammered. "D-do you mind if I share?"

And Sammy gasped again as Dean heard the _thock_ of an apple hitting _his_ hand. "Wow! Thank you!"

Dean brought the apple toward his face and sniffed; it smelled a little like Mom's perfume but mostly like all kinds of pretty flowers. And then he took a bite, and _oh_, the sweet juice that filled his mouth! It was rich and refreshing, kind of like grape juice and kind of like apple juice, and it made him feel warm and good and free and not at all like he had felt when the bad lady had kissed him. He ate his apple slowly, enjoying each bite, and the more he ate, the better he felt—not fogged at all, but clear-headed. He suddenly _understood_ things, like exactly what the bad lady had wanted to do with him and why it would have been bad and when sex was a very good thing and when it wasn't. And like Sammy, he just knew things, like how to tell a good spirit from a bad one and how to keep a demon from getting into your house and how to kill monsters if he had to.

For the first time all day, he didn't feel like a little kid in a too-big body. He felt like a grown-up.

The apple appeared not to have any seeds, and it hadn't had a stem when it fell into his hand, so there wasn't anything left when Dean finished eating it. He licked the very last of the juice off his fingers and closed his eyes, savoring the taste and feeling very full and content. And when he opened his eyes again... he could see.

Sammy—tall, skinny Sammy with long brown hair and a thick brown beard and clear, shining eyes that were young and grown up all at once—didn't say anything when he realized that Dean was looking _at_ him. He just grinned and pulled Dean into the biggest hug Dean had ever gotten, and Dean laughed and hugged him back. After that, they each took a long drink from the fountain and braided each other's hair and beard so they would be out of the way if they had to go through thick brush or something, then took another drink and wondered whether they would ever need to drink anything again, so sweet and refreshing was the water. Then, without quite knowing why, they both bowed a little to the tree to say thanks again, and then they left.

When they were a little way down the road, about to enter the forest again, Dean asked, "Did you think about it?"

Sam blinked. "Think about what?"

"Taking another apple."

Sam sighed and ducked his head. "Yeah. I thought about it. But the first one was a gift; even if the second one didn't turn to ash or poison... I dunno, it just felt bad and selfish and mean." He paused and looked Dean in the eye. "I didn't like feeling like that."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I know what you mean." He had kind of felt the same way for a moment and had the same thoughts.

Sam looked over his shoulder then and stopped short. "Dean."

Dean turned and gasped. The tree was still there, but there was a huge wall around it with no gate that he could see, and the wall was surrounded by burning thorn bushes. They couldn't go back for another apple now if they wanted to.

"C'mon," Dean said, touching Sam's shoulder. "It's getting late."

They turned back and took off at a run, and it seemed to Dean that they were running faster and farther than ever before but weren't getting tired. He didn't notice when they stopped talking out loud and started thinking to each other or when Sam grew taller than he was and then finally stopped growing. And finally, just as the sun was going down, they reached the point where the road met the lip of a deep gorge, spanned only by two ropes, one of which was high enough above the other to serve as a hand-hold.

_The rope bridge_, both brothers realized at once.

_There's only room for one at a time_, Dean thought, trying hard not to look at anything but the other side. He had always hated heights.

_Let me go first_, Sam thought back.

_What? No way!_

_ Dean, if it's sturdy enough for me, it'll hold you._

_ And what if it's not, Sam? What if you fall?_

Sam just looked at him for a moment, then hugged him and started across.

_Sam..._ Dean thought after him.

_The rope's nice and taut_, Sam thought back. _I don't feel any give to it, really. And the good thing about doing this without shoes is that we can use our toes to kind of grip the rope._

Dean carefully didn't think anything else as he watched Sam make his way across the bridge. But nothing bad happened, and Dean sighed in relief as Sam got to the other side.

_There, see? Nothing to it. C'mon._

Dean swallowed hard and stepped out onto the rope, gripping the hand rope tight. He went slowly and kept his eye on Sammy, just like Coach and Dad told him to keep his eye on the ball when he was playing tee-ball, and Sammy thought encouraging things back to him.

But he was halfway across when his foot slipped and he started to fall—only to feel himself stopped by some invisible force.

_There_, he heard Sammy think as the force eased him back upright, _I got you_.

_Sammy, was that _you_?_

_ Uh-huh._

_ How... how did you..._

_ I dunno. I just caught you._

Dean suddenly didn't feel quite so scared. _Cool! Thanks, bro!_

Sammy grinned back at him.

Dean made it the rest of the way across without slipping, and the brothers followed the road and the smell of frying fish down around the hill until it... dead-ended in front of the steepest face of the hill.

_Wait_, they both thought at the same time. _Where's the house?_

But no sooner had they thought that than a crack appeared in the hill and widened with a creak until it became part of a doorway, through which they could see a cozy living room lit by a cheerful fire. Then the door opened the rest of the way to reveal a lady who was very beautiful indeed, in a way the bad lady had not been, but dressed in shining green. And despite her long silver hair, she did not look old at all.

She smiled, and it was the kindest smile Dean had seen on anyone but Sam all day. "Here you are at last! I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost."

"Please," Dean said, and it came out hoarse and quiet, like he hadn't spoken in a long time. "Are you Grandmother?"

She nodded. "I am. And you are Sam and Dean Winchester, are you not?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And quite grown up now, too. Do come in and eat with me."

Sam cleared his throat. "Thank you, Grandmother, but... we're not all that hungry. We just ate a while ago, golden apples from the silver tree."

Grandmother's blue eyes went wide in surprise, and she looked carefully at both of them. "Children," she finally said quietly, "to eat that fruit was a rare grace indeed. For that was the Tree of Wisdom, and even the sight of it is granted to very few. If you were staying here, it _would_ be enough to sustain you for a long time. But you will need other food when you return to mortal lands, as indeed you must, for your parents will need you as soon as you return. So please, come in and eat with me."

Then they went in and ate the fish that she served them, and Grandmother explained that by the time they got home, twenty years would have passed, and the world would be quite different than they remembered. She told them as much as she could about things that had changed and about the fight that would be waiting for them when they got there. Then she led them to a room where there was a little waterfall under which they could shower and gave them each clean, grown-up clothes of the kind they would want to wear home. "Fairy clothes are nicer," she confessed, "but you will seem strange enough to others without wearing clothes that look out of place."

Sam went in to shower first, and as he was getting undressed, he suddenly thought, _Dean. Check your pockets._

Dean checked and drew out a shining twig with three silver leaves on it. And he knew without asking that Sam had found the same thing.

"Keep those with you," said Grandmother. "I don't know what they may bring you in mortal lands, but you may be sure that the tree did not part with them for no reason."

Dean nodded and tucked his twig into the pocket of his grown-up jeans, and he sensed Sam do the same. A few moments later Sam came out again, clean and dressed and with his hair and beard dripping, and sat down beside the fire to finish drying off. Grandmother took a pair of scissors and a comb out of a drawer and began cutting Sam's hair, "for," she said, "you don't want to go back looking like you've spent twenty years in the wild."

Dean hurried and got his own shower then, and when he came out, Grandmother was just finishing trimming Sam's beard. Dean thought he looked better like that, with his hair short enough to curl out a little at the ends and his beard short like Dad's. Then she gave him a little kiss on the cheek, and Sam got up to look at himself in the mirror while Dean sat down and let her cut his hair and beard. She cut his hair quite short, shorter than it had been yesterday, more like Dad's.

Sam studied himself for a long time, trying to get used to all the changes he'd gone through that day, but he didn't think much that Dean could hear. Finally, he said, "I dunno... I don't think I want a beard. It's itchy."

Grandmother had just finished trimming Dean's beard, so he went to look in the mirror himself. It was a shock to look almost as old as Dad and to realize that his baby brother was taller than he was, and all of a sudden he didn't think he wanted a beard, either.

Grandmother got a basin of water then, and a mug with some foamy cream in it, and two somethings Dean recognized as razors. She set the basin of water in front of the mirror and told them to put the foam over their beards, and when they'd done that, she showed them how to use the razors to shave the hair off without cutting themselves. They both had to go slowly, but they managed it, and they agreed privately that they looked much better without the beards, at least for now.

Then Grandmother gave them coats and boots to put on and a lantern and the satchel filled with anything they might still need to eat on their way home, and she blessed their little silver knives but warned them that only a gun that Mom would have could kill Azazel. Then she gave them directions to the edge of the forest, which would bring them to a park very near their house. They thanked her, and she gave them each another kiss on the cheek, and they left.

It was very dark outside, but the lantern gave out just enough light for them to see where they were going. Dean was afraid it was going to take as long to get to the edge of the forest as it did to get to Grandmother's house, but in fact, it seemed like just a few minutes before the dirt path Grandmother had told them to follow turned into a gravel path, and a minute later, the brothers burst out into the moonlit park.

_Dean?_ Sam thought as they paused to get their bearings.

_This way!_ Dean replied, and they took off at a run, glad to be almost home at last.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_November 2, 2003_

_Twenty years_, Mary thought sadly for the fifth time that evening as she sharpened her knives. Twenty years before, she'd witnessed the result of the deal she'd made with the yellow-eyed demon for John's life—Dean screaming on the ceiling of Sammy's nursery, both boys burning to death when supernatural fire exploded through the room. John had barely managed to get Mary out to safety, and only then when it was obvious that they weren't going to be able to save the boys.

The fire department hadn't been able to recover bodies... but the arson investigator said the fire had started on the ceiling and spread _around_ the crib, and the crib burned only when a stray spark fell into a piece of wood that was lying in it. And Missouri Mosely swore that the boys _hadn't_ died that night, though Yellow Eyes had tried to kill Dean.

A piece of wood. A changeling—not the monster kind that fed on mothers, but the fairy kind. It explained everything, but Mary couldn't find any reliable lore on how to redeem children from Faerië. The boys might not be dead in fact, but she and John might never see them again.

In her grief, Mary had told John everything, and they had hunted together for a few years. But soon John had started asking her for more kids, and she had bristled at the idea that anyone could replace Sammy and Dean. They'd fought. They'd separated. They'd reconciled. They'd fought again.

Then came the ghoul hunt in Windom, Minnesota, in January of 1990. Mary had taken that hunt alone and wound up in the hospital, and one of the nurses had called John to pick her up. They had been so glad to see each other that they had thrown caution to the wind... and two weeks later, John had given her a pregnancy test kit and an apology.

Being pregnant with Sam had been difficult. Being pregnant with Adam had been hellacious, with new complications almost every week, and she had spent the last four months bed-ridden. John swore he hadn't gotten her pregnant again on purpose, and she believed him, and he had done his best to take care of her while she was laid up, but even now he couldn't quite understand why the pregnancy had sent her into a tailspin of grief and depression that ended with her going back to hunting nearly full-time as soon as she could leave Adam with John more often than not.

She loved Adam. She tried not to resent John spending time with Adam, doing things he could never do now with Sammy and Dean, and she was sorry Adam felt neglected and hated the idea of hunting as much as she had as a teen. But she _had_ to get her boys back... and she had to stop whatever Yellow Eyes was up to.

For Yellow Eyes hadn't been content to burn down Sammy's nursery. Ten years later, he'd returned to Lawrence, presumably to check on Sam or maybe to find out why he couldn't find Sam. Mary had happened to be at home that night, and the wards were all in place, so Yellow Eyes couldn't get in; but he'd set fire to the yard, and after the fire department got the blaze put out, John and Mary and Adam had huddled together in one bed while hellhounds howled and bayed around the house until morning. It stood to reason that he'd be back in '03.

John had argued in '93, as he had argued in '83 and several times since, that they ought to move. But Mary knew moving wouldn't throw Yellow Eyes off their trail, and if there were any chance that the boys could find their own way home, the family needed to be in the same place.

Hunts hadn't turned up much, but she had finally remembered the name of Daniel Elkins and had pleaded with him for permission to borrow the Colt. He'd finally granted it a month ago, and the gun was sitting on the coffee table in front of Mary now. But Azazel didn't usually turn up until after 10, and it was just barely 8 now. She had time to finish the knives before checking the wards and the gun again.

So she was startled when someone suddenly knocked on the front door—pounded, really. John was back in the kitchen, helping Adam with his homework, so Mary kept the knife in her hand and went to the door. "Who is it?" she asked, not daring to look through the peephole.

"Captain Cab," said a man's voice from outside.

Mary gasped. They'd watched _The A-Team_ together in '83, the night before the fire, the episode where Murdock had pretended to be Captain Cab, and Dean had thought that was the funniest secret identity ever... and Mary somehow had a memory of that same voice saying _We're your sons—when I would get sick, you used to make me tomato rice soup_...

"C'mon, Mom, open the door," the man continued. "It's cold out here."

"Deanie?" Mary threw the door open to reveal two grown men—tall, so very tall—but that was her Dean's smile, and her Sammy's moles—and then she was being swept up in a double hug.

"We were so scared, Mommy," Dean whispered, and he sounded all of four years old again despite the adult voice. "We ran and ran; we didn't know if we would ever get home."

"We did," Sam agreed. "We ran all day, Mommy. But we're here. We're okay."

Mary choked back a sob as they let her go. "All... all day?"

Dean nodded. "Grandmother says it's been twenty years, and we know she tells the truth. But to us it's only been a day."

"Grandmother's a fairy," Sam explained. "She helped us find the way out of the forest."

John and Adam came out of the kitchen then. "Mary, what..." John's question died on his lips as the boys looked up at him and smiled.

"Hi, Daddy," they chorused. "We came home."

Adam frowned. "Who the heck are they?"

Mary sniffled and cleared her throat. "Uh. Boys, this is your brother Adam. Adam, this is Dean, and this is Sam."

A variety of concerned, confused, and distressed expressions crossed both boys' faces as they looked at Adam, then John, then Mary, but never at each other. They looked sad for a moment, too, before finally seeming to come to some kind of conclusion that left them at peace about having a new brother. Then they smiled. "Hi, Adam," they said together.

"Okay," said Adam, "_that_ is freaky. Do you always talk at the same time?"

The boys looked startled at the question and looked at each other. "I... don't _think_ we do," Sam replied.

"Mary," John finally choked out. "Are you sure?"

Well, if they weren't human, they were something that could get past every ward she'd placed to hold off Yellow Eyes, but before she could say so, the boys took off their coats and rolled up their sleeves as if they knew what she needed to do. The knife in her hand was silver, so she started with the cut test; both boys bled normally. Then Mary got the flask of holy water and poured a little salt in it; both boys drank and grimaced a little.

"Yuck," said Sam. "Water doesn't taste so good with salt in it."

And then Dean evidently _thought_ something to Sam, and Sam raised his eyebrows and tilted his head as though conceding the point.

Mary felt a little lightheaded. "Boys, are you... are you _telepaths_?"

Dean frowned until Sam apparently provided a translation. "Not really. We can hear each other, but I can't hear you unless you talk out loud."

John finally managed to walk forward a little to stand beside Mary and look his sons in the eye. "Sammy? D-Dean?"

As they had done to her, they both hugged him at once. And John broke down and wept as he hadn't in years.

"You thought we were dead," Dean whispered sadly. "You really thought we were dead."

"I did," John sobbed. "God help me, boys, I did. I'm so sorry."

"We tried, Daddy," Sam said with a sniffle. "We ran _all day_, but it was so far. We got here as fast as we could."

John pulled back in shock. "All _day_? Sammy, what—"

"We'll explain later, Dad," Dean interrupted, suddenly sounding much older than 24. "The demon's coming back. Azazel. He'll be here soon."

Mary gasped. "You _know?_"

Dean nodded. "Grandmother said you had a gun."

Mary pointed to the Colt, and the boys turned to look. And then the Colt flew up off the table and into Sam's hand! Mary grabbed John's arm in shock, but the boys didn't seem to notice; they were both focused on the gun and were having another mental conversation.

"You do it," Dean finally said out loud, evidently intending the comment for more than Sam's ears. "He wants you."

"_What?_" John roared.

Dean turned to him. "'S why the fairies took us—they wanted to keep us safe 'cause Azazel was gonna drip his blood in Sam's mouth and... and do something to him. The little man didn't understand, so he couldn't explain. But he doesn't know it was a changeling. He thinks he really did it to Sam. And he thinks he really killed me."

"So that... that was..."

"The little man made himself look like me when the other little man decided to take me, too. They were gonna just take Sammy, but I tried to make them stop."

"I'm glad he did," Sam added quietly, slipping his free hand into Dean's. "They were gonna take me to the king, and I wouldn't have known how to escape at _all_. Dean saved me."

"And _you_ saved _me_," Dean returned, squeezing his hand. "I woulda gone off with that bad lady or fallen off the bridge. You were awesome."

Mary's heart shattered, but she took a deep, if ragged, breath and pulled herself together. "Okay. You can tell us the story later. Let's get Azazel first."

Dean squeezed Sam's hand again and let it go, and Sam tucked the gun into the back of his waistband as the pair of them started checking the wards on the door and windows. They didn't leave the living room at first, evidently satisfied with what they saw. Then Dean went out on the front porch and squinted up at the ceiling as he pulled a knife out of his back waistband. Sam joined him and produced a knife of his own, and together they carved some elaborate design that Mary didn't recognize but assumed was some kind of devil's trap. Sam swept the shavings off the porch with a thought, then looked inside again and telekinetically grabbed a permanent marker and brought it to Dean, who was looking down and thinking hard. Dean uncapped the marker and drew another, more conventional devil's trap on the floor of the porch, slowly, carefully—and incorrectly. Mary had watched Dean draw enough times before his kidnapping, though, to spot the places where he deliberately wobbled his wrist, points he deliberately misdrew, and the gap he very carefully left in one line.

And suddenly she understood the plan.

"That looks like a _kid_ drew it," Adam said derisively.

"That," Dean shot back as Sam stomped through the middle of the trap, smudging the damp ink very precisely, "is the point."

Sam tracked the ink to the welcome mat and carefully wiped his boots on it. Then the boys came back inside, and Mary was proud to note that they didn't track anything into the house or smudge the salt line.

"Is there a safer room?" Sam asked Mary as Dean closed the door. "You might not want to be in here, where he could see you."

Mary looked at John, who sighed. "Let's go in the kitchen. I don't want to leave the boys without backup."

Mary nodded and hugged the boys again, then grabbed a shotgun and followed John and Adam into the kitchen and poured a thick line of salt across the doorway. Sam and Dean took up positions by the door, and Sam turned out the living room lights. John followed suit in the kitchen, and they settled in to wait.

They didn't have to wait long. Azazel's footsteps sounded loud on the front steps, but Sam didn't wait for him to knock. Instead, he opened the door partway, leaving Dean hidden behind it.

Mary could hear Azazel's delighted intake of breath before he said, "Howdy, Sam."

Sam didn't reply.

"Got tired of your mama hiding you, huh?" The demon chuckled and leered at him, and Mary had to force herself not to vomit. "Well, you did grow up nicely. I knew you would. You always were my favorite."

"You can't come in here," Sam said flatly. "Leave my family alone."

Azazel looked down at the misdrawn trap on the porch and laughed. "Looks like your mama neglected your education." Then he walked forward, seemingly unimpeded. "But then, your family never did understand you, not like I do. They could never understand how unique you are, how strong, what you can do. Come with me, Sam."

"No."

"They don't love you, Sam."

"That's where you're wrong."

Dean pulled the door open the rest of the way and rested his right hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam instinctively put his left arm around Dean's waist, and Mary got the feeling that they'd spent a good chunk of their "day" walking together just like that. And somehow, standing there together, the two of them almost _glowed_.

Azazel stopped short. "No... I _killed_ you..."

Dean gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze that Mary could barely see, and Sam drew the Colt. Azazel tried to bolt, but the carved trap stopped him. And Sam very calmly took aim and fired.

The boys didn't move as Azazel fell, hellfire burning in his bones. It wasn't until John and Mary jumped over the salt line and ran to their side that Mary could hear both of them nearly hyperventilating from the shock of Sam's first kill. John hugged them from one side, Mary from the other, and they both burst into tears.

Moments later they heard sirens, and the boys started crying harder. And Mary suddenly realized that "happily ever after" wasn't happening just yet.

John did the talking when the police arrived, at least as much as he could. After what had happened in '93, it seemed, the police and fire departments both had been expecting something to happen, and a neighbor who had caught a glimpse of Azazel in '93 had called the police as soon as he turned up again. John didn't even have to claim self-defense; the officers thought that much was obvious. Still, they did need to get statements from everyone... but no sooner had John and Mary gotten Sam and Dean settled on the couch than Sam had buried his face in Dean's shoulder, and Dean looked ready to disappear into the couch cushions if he could. The officers interviewed Mary and Adam in the kitchen, then went outside to figure out how to deal with the boys.

One older officer finally came back in and set up a video recorder with a good external microphone. "What's your name, sir?" he asked Dean gently.

Dean's reply was barely audible. "Dean Winchester. This's m'brother Sammy."

The officer frowned. "I understood that Dean and Samuel Winchester were killed in the fire twenty years ago."

"That's what they thought," Dean replied with a nod, still barely loud enough to hear. "We were kidnapped. We escaped when I was ten, and we've been trying to get home ever since." He spoke slowly, as if choosing each word, and Mary realized he was giving a very carefully edited account of the truth.

"Do you know who kidnapped you?"

"I never heard their names."

"Did they ever..." The officer paused, trying to find a tactful way to phrase his question.

"They didn't hurt us," Dean replied, still choosing his words carefully. "They said they wanted to keep us safe 'cause the man Sammy shot wanted to hurt him. That's why he started the fire, 'cause he thought I caught him. He didn't know it wasn't us."

The officer nodded. "Do you know the name of the town where they took you, the people who kidnapped you?"

Dean shook his head. "It was a long way from here, and they lived alone in a forest. We didn't find any towns on our way back."

"Do you know why the man wanted to hurt your brother?"

"He wanted to take me away again," Sam supplied, finally looking at the officer but not moving his head from Dean's shoulder. "Tonight, I mean. He said so."

The officer blinked. "Did he say why?"

"Nuh-uh. I... I think he expected me to just know, 'cause of what he tried to do to me when I was little." And there was that same careful word choice again, none of the ease with which _we ran all day, Mommy_ had fallen from those same lips. "He said my family didn't love me like he did. And he said I was his favorite and always had been."

The officer hissed and made a note of that. Mary hated for the man Azazel had possessed to be tarred with suspicion of being a sexual predator, but it was easier to let the police make their own assumptions than to explain that he really had been a demoniac.

"You fellas look beat," the officer finally said. "You think you could fill out a statement real fast?"

"Can Dad do it?" Dean asked. "I know how to read a little bit, but we don't know how to write."

The officer looked sad. "No, son, it's okay. We've got this tape; that'll be enough, I think, since we're not filing charges."

The boys sagged against each other in relief, and Mary thought she saw a few fresh tears slip down their cheeks. The officer shut off the video tape, and Mary sat down on the arm of the couch to run her fingers through Sam's hair, to give him what comfort she could. Once the police left, John took Adam upstairs to debrief while Mary quickly fixed a pot of tomato rice soup, and while Sam and Dean ate slowly, she made up the bed in the sleeper sofa; Adam had Dean's old room, and Sam's room was now John's office, so the couch was the only place left for the boys to sleep. After they finished their soup, the boys practically sleepwalked through changing into some of John's pajamas, and John and Mary both had to help them navigate into the bed that was both bigger than they were used to and almost too small to hold both of them. Adam came back down for a perfunctory good night, but John and Mary lingered, squeezed onto the edges of the bed and rubbing arms and carding hair as if the boys were still... well, little.

"My big, brave boys," Mary murmured. "I've missed you so much."

"Missed you too, Mommy," they whispered.

And then they rolled together and fell fast asleep, holding each other as if they were afraid of being parted again. John and Mary watched them sleep for a long moment before John finally led Mary upstairs to their own room.

Then and only then did Mary fall apart, and John held her while she cried herself to sleep.

* * *

><p>For virtually his entire life, Adam Winchester had been aware of three things: that monsters were real; that Mom, and sometimes Dad, hunted them; and that he was not an only child. The first two were things he couldn't tell anyone. The second had been cool when he was little, but as he got older, he came to hate the fact that Mom was gone more than she was home. Oh, sure, she made an effort to be there when he needed her most, and she did sometimes come to a baseball game or some other major event, but there were times when he almost felt like he didn't really have a mom.<p>

But Sam and Dean were suffocating in their absence, and he resented the fact that even the good things Dad did with him were motivated at least in part by the fact that he was the youngest of three and Dad was missing his other sons every time he got to do something with Adam that he wouldn't ever get to do with Sam and Dean. The fact that Mom and Missouri insisted they weren't dead just made things worse.

And then they came back, and they were grown-ups who talked like little kids, and they looked _hurt_ when Mom introduced him as their brother. And then they shot Azazel, which... okay, that was kind of cool. But then they fell asleep and slept for most of four days, and when they _were_ awake (mostly for meals), Mom and Dad fussed over them, and they didn't say much at all except to each other through whatever this mind link thing they had was.

Adam was not impressed.

He was also not impressed when reporters started showing up, wanting to talk to Sam and Dean and not accepting Dad's refusal to grant interviews. Mom made Adam stay home from school until the reporters were gone, which stunk because not only was he enjoying his classes that year, he'd had plans to hang out with his friends that week. But the one time he even looked out the front window, the reporters started crowding around, all trying to ask questions at once until both Mom and Dad came outside with shotguns to tell them they weren't making a new statement that day. Finally, Missouri came over and threatened to sue the pants off of every last one of the reporters if they didn't leave the Winchesters alone.

That got rid of all but one, who tried to follow Missouri into the house until Dad got in his face and made Adam suddenly remember that Dad had been a Marine and was even scarier than Mom when he wanted to be.

Adam was relieved to get to go to school the next day; he wanted to forget all about Sam and Dean for a few hours. But of course, he had no such luck.

"Dude," said Dylan as they sat down at the lunch table, "what the _hell_ has been going on at your house?"

Adam sighed. "My brothers came back."

"Your _brothers?_"

"Yep."

"You have brothers."

"Older. Apparently they were kidnapped by a bunch of freaks when they were little." Adam didn't bother to hide the disgust in his voice.

"Messed 'em up, huh?"

"Seriously."

Dylan looked at him for a moment. "Hey. Why don't you come over after school, play some video games?"

Adam shrugged. "I'll need to stop by the house and check in with Mom, but yeah, sure."

Dylan grinned, and Adam deliberately changed the subject.

After school, Adam and Dylan rode their bikes to the Winchester house, and Adam could see that Dad had spent the day replacing the scribbled-on, blood-stained boards on the porch. It was kind of a relief to see the new, clean lumber, even though Dad hadn't painted yet. Dylan started to follow Adam up the stairs, but he stopped before he actually set foot on the porch.

Adam glanced back. "Dylan?"

Dylan smiled—a little nervously, Adam thought. "Nah, it's okay. I'll just wait here... y'know, your brothers might still be asleep..."

Adam frowned. "Dude, what's wrong with you?" Yeah, Dylan never came inside anymore, but usually he was cool with waiting on the porch.

"_Exorcisamus te_," Dean's voice said suddenly, and Adam spun to see his oldest brother standing in the doorway.

Dylan gasped and started to run away, but something stopped him. Adam turned back to see Sam looking sternly at Dylan over Dean's shoulder as Dean continued calmly reciting the exorcism, and he suddenly remembered that Sam was telekinetic. Dylan choked and convulsed, shouted for them to stop, then tried to stab himself with the pocket knife Adam had forgotten that he carried. Sam slapped the knife out of Dylan's hand telekinetically. And the Latin just kept rolling off Dean's tongue until a cloud of black smoke came roaring out of Dylan's mouth and into the ground.

Dad came out of the garage just then and ran over to check on Dylan while Sam set him gently on his back. But Adam couldn't move, even when Dean walked up beside him and rubbed his shoulder a little. He was too stunned.

"He'll be okay," Dad announced, scooping Dylan up. "I'll get him home, make sure at least his bedroom's warded." Then he looked at Sam and Dean. "You boys did good."

"Thanks, Dad," they replied at the same time.

Then Sam went down to put Dylan's bike in the trunk of the Impala while Dad put Dylan in the back seat. But Dean kept rubbing Adam's shoulder.

"I don't understand," Adam finally whispered. "Was... was that a _demon?_"

"Yep," Dean replied.

"But... _why?_"

Dean turned Adam to face him, then crouched down to where he was at Adam's eye level, never taking his hand off Adam's shoulder. "The fairies called us a rare breed," he said quietly. "I don't know exactly what it is that makes us so special or why Azazel wanted Sammy so bad. But you're our brother—the same father, the same mother. It figures that you must be special, too. And if the demons can't have Sam or me, they might try to get you. You _have_ to be careful, Adam."

Adam just stared into those green eyes that were both way too young and way too old for someone who was 24. He could tell that Dean was absolutely serious... and that he really was worried about Adam. _For_ Adam.

Then Dean pulled him into a warm hug, and Adam gave up trying to understand. But he wasn't sure he could resent his brothers anymore.

* * *

><p>The boys were mostly back on their feet by Friday, by which time John had located a cheap king-sized bedroom suite on Craigslist and had mostly cleared out the office enough to be able to fit the bed and a couple of dressers in there. Mary had found the boys some all-cotton flannel sheets and clothes, along with silver chains and jump rings to make pendants of the silver twigs she'd found in their jeans. They hadn't tried to change the décor much, but John had found a place to hang the fairy lantern, and Mary had put hooks on the door and hung the bag the boys had brought back on it. Dean had unpacked some food from it one night when they woke up hungry after John and Mary were already in bed, as well as the old pajamas they'd been wearing when they were taken; but there still seemed to be something in the bag, and neither parent wanted to pry.<p>

Mary had also found some children's computer games, which fascinated the boys no end. They didn't get much sleep Friday night, but they did apparently do a lot of catching up in terms of reading and computer skills.

On Saturday, a number of John and Mary's hunting friends arrived to meet the boys and give opinions and advice once they'd heard the whole story: Ellen Harvelle, Jim Murphy, Bobby Singer, Rufus Turner, and Missouri. Missouri, of course, had been in and out since Wednesday, but aside from the fact that they'd been touched by some powerful good, she wouldn't say much about what she sensed about them. But the boys weren't nearly as shy around the hunters as they had been around the police. John wasn't sure whether it was a result of having caught up on their sleep or whether they could sense something safe about these people that they couldn't sense about the police.

Once introductions had been made and everyone was settled, the boys told their story cheerfully and without hesitation, and they answered every question with a childlike innocence and honesty, even if the answer was "I don't know" or "I just know." And the hunters sat back at the end to try to make sense of it all.

"Well, John, this much I think we can agree on," Bobby finally said. "You've got two amazingly good boys here; they haven't been harmed by their time in Faerië; and as sane as they clearly are, no psychiatrist in the world is going to buy that they're not crazy."

Everyone laughed.

"The problem is where to go from here," Jim continued. "They both sound like quick studies, but that might not be enough to get them caught up to a point where they could get a civilian job or go to college or anything like that."

"I didn't like having to be so careful when we talked to the policeman," Dean confessed. "I wanted to tell the truth, but I knew he wouldn't believe me if I told everything."

Sam nodded. "Grandmother said people were gonna think we're strange. I'm a little scared to find out why."

Rufus hummed thoughtfully. "If they have a problem with lying—not that's a bad thing, boys—hunting's probably not a good idea. Too much of the job relies on false identities and convincing cover stories."

Mary nodded. "I never wanted the boys to become hunters anyway. I want them safe, but... they shouldn't have to deal with the things we see."

"They could be consultants, though," Ellen suggested, "run a hunter's archive of some kind. If nothing else, they've got all that lore stashed in their heads; it would be a good idea to get it written down somewhere. They could come stay with me for a while, let Ash get 'em caught up on computers and such."

"Wouldn't make much money doing that," John noted.

Missouri chuckled suddenly. "Oh, I don't think they need to worry about money, John. Sam, go get that satchel you brought home."

The boys exchanged a puzzled look, and Sam obeyed. "It's really heavy," he said as he brought it back. "I thought we emptied it the other night."

"We did," Dean frowned. "And it wasn't that heavy when we left Grandmother's."

Sam set the bag on the coffee table and sat down. Dean opened it and gasped loudly.

"What is it, son?" John asked. He was across the room and couldn't see.

"Gold," Dean breathed, staring. "It's... f-full of gold." And from the top of the bag he pulled out a single shining coin that looked to John as if it were very old.

"May I, Dean?" asked Jim, who was something of a coin collector. Dean carefully passed him the coin, and Jim let out a low whistle. "This is an extremely rare coin—mint condition, too. Gold's kind of at a low point in terms of value, but I'd wager just one of these would go for well over a thousand dollars, maybe more like $100,000. You wouldn't have to sell very many; a few good high-interest accounts and other safe investments, and you boys would be set for a long time. And you'd have the rest of that gold for a backup."

"Seems selfish to keep it all," Sam said quietly. "We should use some of it to help people."

Dean nodded. "Can you help us do that, Pastor Jim? Some savings for Mom and Dad, at least, and some school money for Adam? And maybe another account for helping people?"

John was stunned. He would have expected the boys to want to spend their wealth on gadgets and toys, like... well, like the kids they still seemed to be. That Grandmother person must have been right about the Tree of Wisdom; he wasn't sure _he_ would be so willing to seek out sound investment advice if that gold had come to him, never mind being so willing to give so freely.

Jim nodded and handed back the coin. "Sure, Dean. Let me find out for sure what a fair price for these coins would be, and then we can figure out how many to sell and how much to put in what kinds of accounts. In the meantime, maybe we'd better put that gold in your dad's safe."

"No," John said quickly. "No, I'll buy you boys your own safe, let you find a place for it and set your own combination. It'll be safer that way, if just the two of you know how to get to it."

The boys had some kind of quick mental conference and nodded their agreement. They trusted him, he could tell, but he wasn't sure he deserved that kind of trust. He was damn sure he didn't trust himself.

"I know a good accountant," Bobby offered, "owes me some favors. We'll get you boys fixed up."

The boys grinned. "Thanks, Bobby."

And so it was settled—sort of.

Things weren't perfect after that. Strangely enough, getting the boys sorted out financially was the easiest part. There were mishaps at the grocery store, failures of tact in talking with neighbors, a few near misses in teaching the boys how to drive, idiots at restaurants who nearly provoked fights once Sam or Dean figured out that they were being insulted. There were arguments on all manner of subjects, not a few of them deliberately picked by Adam in a bid to regain his sense of control in a family that was suddenly much bigger than he was used to. There were incidents of rough-housing gone nearly too far, since the boys still weren't completely used to being grown men, though luckily nothing was seriously damaged and no one was seriously injured.

The boys got sick. They got confused about times, dates, years. They got frustrated to the point of tears or violence in trying to catch up on skills they hadn't learned. They got depressed and lonely because they couldn't find friends their own age.

Thanksgiving and Christmas went as well as could be expected, and even Adam seemed to enjoy himself. But a few days before his birthday, Dean went to John and Mary and said, "Mom, Dad... we've been thinking... maybe it would be better for everybody for us to move out. Adam's mad at us, and our room's too small, and... we get tired of _explaining_."

"Do you want to stay here in Lawrence?" Mary asked quietly.

Dean shook his head. "We think maybe we should go someplace where nobody knows us, where nobody will say 'I thought you were dead' or 'Why did you come back?'" He paused. "It'd be nice not to hear 'You're so stupid, why don't you know that' all the time, but that might be too much to ask for."

John nodded and took Mary's hand. "Maybe you and Mom could take a trip together, see if you can find someplace. You know this will always be your home, but... I gotta admit, it'd be a lot easier for you to set up your library in your own house than it would be for us to finish the attic or add on to the house."

Dean brightened a little. "Would you do that, Mom? Would you help us?"

Mary sniffled and hugged him. "Oh, baby, you know I will."

"I don't want to leave, but... this isn't working. We can't... we don't _fit_ anymore."

"I know, sweetheart. I don't want you to go, but I understand." She sniffled again. "You know you might not fit anywhere anymore."

"Yeah. I know. But maybe we'll fit a little better than we do here."

Mary nodded and let him go. "Okay, then. After your birthday, if the weather's good."

Dean smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

Over the next few days, John helped the boys come up with a list of things to look for in a house and a reasonable price range, questions to ask the realtor, what to look for in a neighborhood and a town. Mary bought the boys cell phones and came up with a set of lessons for them to work on while they were on the road, mostly history, math, reading, and writing. And Sam and Dean took some time off from catching up on information to catch up a little on TV and movies. John was glad they weren't turning out to be super-serious monks, but they did surprise him by quickly losing interest in a lot of current shows and getting hooked on classic sci-fi, mysteries, and comedies like _Hogan's Heroes_ and _The Monkees_. They weren't comfortable with "adult" fare at all, which was sort of understandable given their encounter with the _leannán sidhe_ (at least that was what John assumed the "bad lady" had been), but it did make John wonder whether they'd ever be able to marry.

Of course, Adam had to make a snide comment about it, which earned him a "there's nothing wrong with celibacy" lecture from Mary that John suspected was directed at him as well. John found himself looking forward to the three of them being gone. He didn't know if Mary could settle back into civilian life with him and Adam now that Sam and Dean were back, but at least she might be able to. At least he understood her somewhat. Sam and Dean were too different now, too far removed from what John considered normal for a grown man. He loved them dearly, but Dean was right; they didn't belong in Lawrence anymore.

Dean's birthday was awkward. He voted for a Batman cake and cried himself to sleep the night before because all of his friends had moved away and there was no one to invite to the party. Half of the presents he'd asked for were toys that were no longer made. And when John offered him a beer to go with the cake, Dean looked at him oddly and politely declined. Yet he was thrilled when John gave him the keys to the Impala instead of a toy car, and when Adam made some off-hand remark about angels that John mostly agreed with, Dean pinned Adam with a look and demolished his argument as easily as if he'd been to seminary. The headache John felt by the end of the night had next to nothing to do with the amount of alcohol he'd consumed.

The weather was still relatively good two days after Dean's birthday, so Mary decided to risk heading on out. It held just long enough for them to get snowed in at the Roadhouse. After that, between weather and lack of direction, it took the better part of two months for the boys to find a place—but find it they did, a big log house in the Gallatin Mountains just outside of Bozeman, Montana, and Sam insisted on getting moved in before his birthday. John followed them out after they came back to Lawrence to gather up what few belongings the boys still had there, and he and Mary stayed for Sam's birthday.

It was his first birthday and his twenty-first birthday, and he hated the smell of alcohol. John gave up trying to plan _anything_.

Fortunately, Jim and Bobby had a better sense of what to do, since they came out a few days early and put the boys to work building bookcases for the two-story great room that they were converting to their main stacks while the elder hunters worked with John to build a walkway around the second story so they could actually use that space. Once they got the hang of the process, Dean built the shelves and Sam sanded and stained, and from the laughter that filtered into the house, they enjoyed every minute of it. Rufus came out a day later to fix up the basement for storing both weapons and delicate documents, and Ellen and Ash showed up the day after that to set up the computers and the security system. The boys had warded the place themselves with Mary's help, but now it was starting to look more like the library they wanted it to be.

That left books. And the hunters had brought those by the carload, some that the boys had bought with their own money, but most copied or purchased by the others as gifts. One of the Campbell cousins, Gwen, even showed up with books she'd copied on the sly from the Campbell family archives at Mary's request. While John and Mary took the boys out for dinner—introducing Sam to Chinese food, which was more fun that John had expected—the others loaded shelves according to a system Bobby'd organized, and when they got home, the hunters yelled, "SURPRISE!"

Sam's mouth fell open as he stared wide-eyed at the shelves, which weren't filled to capacity yet but still held a significant selection. "Books," he finally breathed. "So many _books_..."

Dean snickered, but his own eyes were shining in delighted surprise. Sam turned and playfully cuffed him upside the head, then started wandering through the shelves, taking in the sights, and Dean trailed after him.

"So many books," Sam repeated, awed. "All for us."

"There's another bookcase in your bedroom," Bobby said, "with books that are just for fun—_Lord of the Rings_, _Chronicles of Narnia_, that sort of thing. When you're ready for them, they'll be there."

Sam clearly didn't know what to say, so he hugged everybody... even Ash, who squawked in surprise.

Rufus cleared his throat. "'Course, there's one book we can't give you boys—'cause it's the one only you two can write."

Ash held up a finger. "I know you're still gonna want to get better at typin' and stuff on your own, amigos, _but_ the computer that's in the office has voice recognition software. If you want to start writin' now, you can."

Sam hugged him again. "Thank you, Ash!"

Ash laughed. "Geez, take it easy, there, Sasquatch!"

Dean's eyes lit up mischievously, and John realized he'd just hit on the perfect teasing nickname for Sam—a thought confirmed when Sam shot Dean an amused glare. Dean clearly thought it several more times, because Sam's eyes got narrower, and then Dean took off running, cackling madly, while Sam chased him... _out_ of the great room, thankfully, and eventually out of and around the house. Sam didn't shout at Dean out loud, but Dean laughed and laughed until Sam finally caught up to him, tackled him, and started tickling him with in an inch of his life. Then they tussled for several minutes, both yelping and laughing, until at last they lay side by side on the grass, panting and giggling.

"Dang," said Gwen, amused, "they really _did_ age twenty years in one day, didn't they?"

Sam got up first, then pulled Dean to his feet and into a hug. Dean apparently thought him a question, and Sam nodded. Dean hugged him a little tighter and patted his back, and then they came back inside, holding hands like little boys.

And suddenly John felt like "happily ever after" might be possible after all.


	3. Epilogue

Epilogue

A happy ending means different things to different people. It never means the story's truly over or that nobody had any more trouble at all. And it definitely didn't mean an absolutely perfect life for the Winchesters.

John and Mary's marriage still had rough spots, and Mary ended up splitting her time between Lawrence and Bozeman. Adam kept up the sulky teen routine until he left for college, although he never got to the point of disowning Sam and Dean to their faces, and once he moved into the dorm, he threw out all his protective training in favor of being "normal." Only his brothers' quick response to one of the visions Sam had started having shortly after moving to Bozeman saved Adam from falling victim to a couple of ghouls seeking revenge on Mary.

Sam and Dean hit their own share of speed bumps in learning to live on their own. The demon who turned up claiming to be Azazel's daughter was only part of it. They got along with most people in Bozeman okay, but there were laundry questions and cooking mishaps and books that got coffee spilled on them and mechanical problems and political questions that confused the hell out of both of them. But within a year, they were pretty well able to fend for themselves, even when Mary was there to help with housework. Hunters started to seek them out for advice, and the neighbors did accept them for who they were. A few of the oldest Irish old timers even called them fairy doctors.

And then they hauled off and got married.

It was both sudden and unsurprising. Jo Harvelle wanted to become a hunter, despite Ellen's objections, and although she spent her weekdays at college, her weekends were largely devoted to learning the business. Ash's description of Sam and Dean intrigued her, and she ended up drifting to Bozeman once or twice a month, often dragging along a friend whom she was trying to interest in hunting. She wasn't sure which brother she liked better, though over time she leaned toward Dean, but most of her girlfriends were either put off by the boys' fairy-touched ways or hit on one of the brothers—especially Dean—way too strongly. Dean almost fell for one friend, Cassie, until he made some distinctly childish (but not bad) remark that caused Cassie to flounce out of the house and drag Jo with her. Dean cried for a week.

But then Jo met Jess Moore, who wasn't all that interested in hunting per se but somehow _got_ Sam in a way Jo's other friends hadn't. She wasn't even put off by the twenty years in Faerië. She truly loved Sam for who he was... and Sam liked her a lot. And Dean started to realize that Jo felt the same way about him.

Finally, a year or so after Jo first introduced the boys to Jess, the girls came up for a weekend, and Sam and Dean met them on the front steps. Sam took Jess by both hands and looked at her for a moment, and whatever speech he'd meant to make, what came out was, "We should get married."

Dean shyly took Jo by the hand, studied her face the same way, and whispered, "Yes."

Jo suggested Vegas, but Jess said her parents would kill her. So after a few quick phone calls, the Winchesters' extended hunting family and the Moores had a week to get to Bozeman for a very informal wedding officiated by Pastor Jim. The Moores weren't thrilled to see so many "rednecks" among the other guests, but Sam and Dean charmed Mrs. Moore enough that she and Mr. Moore did eventually give their blessing to the union.

The couples did move into separate bedrooms, but nobody dared ask how the boys' mental link affected things, and neither they nor the girls ever told. They were all quite happy, though, and before long, Sam and Jess had twins and Dean and Jo had one on the way.

One summer evening in 2010, the couples took the children outside to play in the backyard as they often did, seemingly unaware that they were being observed by two figures lingering in the shadow of the forest that bordered the property. Said figures, male and female, only watched, though after a while the ball that the children were playing with began rolling off and bouncing around as if it had a mind of its own. The children shrieked and giggled as they ran after it, and the male figure chuckled contentedly as he led them a merry chase.

"This isn't how the story was supposed to end, was it?" the female figure asked.

"Nope," replied her companion, popping the p. "The world was supposed to end last month—literally or just from Dean's point of view, depends on who you ask. I dunno about you, but I kind of like living."

"So you summoned a leprechaun?"

"Hey, the boys' childhood was going to be stolen from them regardless. I just figured... better to let them have _something_ in exchange."

Sam looked into the trees then and caught sight of the pair. A moment later, so did Dean. They made eye contact for a long moment... then smiled slightly, nodded, and went back to watching the children.

Kali snorted. "You're pathetic," she said affectionately.

Gabriel shrugged and popped a candy in his mouth. "So I like happy endings. Sue me."

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><p>AN: This story was inspired, at several removes and in reverse, by George MacDonald's _The Golden Key_; really, about the only points carried over are the rough 1 hour = 1 year ratio and the character of Grandmother, who is still only loosely based on MacDonald's fairy. There are probably also some influences from ficwriter1966's "Legend" (on LJ), though I've tried not to swipe any plot points directly. The title is Scots Gaelic for "little heroes."

I think I've seen summaries for other stories where one of the boys was taken by the fairies as a child, but I don't remember reading any of them. So any similarities are a case of great minds thinking alike.


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